


A Cup of Good Cheer

by Quettaser



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quettaser/pseuds/Quettaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why does an elementary school even need seven backdrop changes? What are we, the Phantom of the Opera?" Based on the sketches that Alison had been given, only the simplest backdrop had been finished, leaving six splotchy monstrosities for her to deal with over the weekend. She needed help. Desperately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cup of Good Cheer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breathedout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathedout/gifts).



> Thank you to S for listening and poking me to make this better.

Alison was sewing her seventh snowflake costume when her phone buzzed on the crafting table. She cringed at the name on the screen, grabbed her wine glass and took a long drink. If Poppy offered to hire a string quartet one more time, she was going to scream. Allison grabbed her phone, closed her eyes, taking three seconds to center herself, then answered her phone, “Poppy.”

“Alison, dear, how are you?” asked Poppy, her tone suggesting that she didn’t actually want to hear the answer. “Terrible news, Sloane is being whisked away by her ex-husband this weekend and won’t be able to finish the backdrops for the pageant.”

“Oh,” was the only sound Alison was able to make before Poppy continued on.

“I know, I thought they had finally stopped trying, too. Honestly, what does she see in him?”

Alison made a vague noise of agreement while she tried to figure out how much more wine she could drink and still manage to sew a straight hem.

“Anyway, I’ve called everyone on the PTA’s Pageant Parent list and no one has the time this weekend to finish them. Family obligations and all.”

Alison could tell where Poppy was headed with the call and knew she would have better luck trying to outrun a freight train than swaying Poppy once she had her mind set. “Have you asked Prudence?” Alison asked, knowing it was probably hopeless.

“She's run off with the Henderson's Spanish tutor. Scandalous, really. But she’s also not available.”

"Fine, I'll do it."

“Thank you, Alison. I know you’re already doing the costumes, but I wouldn’t ask you unless it was a last resort," Poppy said. "Sloane left everything for you in the school auditorium."

"Thanks," Alison said, gritting her teeth.

"Kisses," Poppy started to say, but Alison was already ending the call, flipping off her phone in the process. She let out a long sigh and laid her head down on the table, wondering why she adopted children in the first place.

Later, the same thought occurred to Alison as she stood and stared at the half-finished mess in the school auditorium. "Why does an elementary school even need seven backdrop changes? What are we, the Phantom of the Opera?" Based on the sketches that Alison had been given, only the simplest backdrop had been finished, leaving six splotchy monstrosities for her to deal with over the weekend. She needed help. Desperately.

Pulling out her phone, Alison made a call that she knew she would probably end up regretting.

"Felix," Alison said when the call picked up, putting on speakerphone and her best cheerful voice.

"Please tell me you've lost a limb or are dying in a ditch somewhere and no one in Clone Club can help you and that's why you've called me at this godawful hour," Felix said. He sounded like his face was pressed into a pillow.

"It's four o'clock in the afternoon," said Alison. She started pacing across the stage, feeling the knot of frustration building in her chest. "But I do need your help."

"Am I soliciting beautiful, wealthy men from the suburbs? Because if not, I don't care."

"Look, I just got dumped with painting the backdrops for Gemma and Oscar's holiday pageant, because even in the PTA, I'm apparently the one person that people rely on to do all the work!" Alison hissed into her phone.

Felix sighed and Alison could hear the rustling of sheets. "Stop being reliable and everyone will stop relying on you. That always worked for me."

"There is so much bull-poop going on in my life thanks to my," Alison paused, looking around at the empty auditorium, "condition. The last thing I need is Queen Sloane, High Priss of Priss Mountain, on my ass for screwing up the show, even though I'm already making all of the costumes."

"High Priss of Priss Mountain?" Felix repeated.

Alison ignored him. "Come help me paint these backdrops. You're an artist. You'd know what you were doing."

“I just don’t see what’s in this for me," Felix said, sounding like he was considering her offer. "You, obviously, get my superior artistic expertise and the pleasure of my company.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“I’d make better rates doing other things with my time.”

"I'll buy a couple of boxes of wine and we can get drunk while we paint," offered Alison.

"That's the only way I know how to paint," said Felix. "We're getting there, what else?"

Alison paused, thinking. “Well, I guess I could introduce you to the choir teacher.”

"Oh, I like that sound of that," said Felix. "Wait, is he cute? I don’t trust your taste in men.”

“What? Why not?”

“You married _Donnie_ ,” Felix said, hissing the name.

Alison scoffed. Her taste was impeccable. "I'll have you know, he was _very_ attractive when we first started dating."

"Right. Fine, I'll help you as long as you get me drunk and this choir teacher is scrumptious."

"Deal. Be at my place in an hour,” Alison said before ending the call and putting away her phone. She could probably fit everything in the back of her minivan. Probably.

"Why does an elementary school pageant need seven backdrop changes? Are your kids doing Phantom?" Felix asked when he walked into the garage.

"I said the same thing.” Alison stared at the piles of unpainted backdrop fabric. “It's terrible. I want to die."

"Then we need to start drinking.”

“The wine is in the fridge,” Alison said, vaguely gesturing towards the door into the house while she tried to match the sketch of each backdrop with the correct fabric.

Felix came back a few minutes later, once Alison had spread out the first backdrop on the ground. He had a box of wine and glasses in hand, with a portable stereo and some CDs under his arms. "The key to any last minute major piece of art," said Felix, putting everything on the ground by Alison, "besides getting completely trashed, of course, is listening to the right music.” He handed Alison a few CDs from her collection, saying, “But this is as close as I could get with your assortment.”

“Oh, I love _Jagged Little Pill_.”

“I know you do.”

"You could have gotten my iPod and speakers from the crafting room."

"Your running playlist terrifies me, so, no. Let’s get to work.”

A bucket of blue paint, a Meredith Brooks CD, and two boxes of wine later, Oscar and Gemma were bolting through the door of the garage, screaming for Felix.  
“Come play with us, Felix!”

“I put together an outfit that’s so super cool, you need to see it.”

“Hey, hey,” interrupted Alison. “Felix is busy helping Mom right now, I need you guys to go play somewhere else.”

“But, Mom,” whined Gemma, stamping her foot.

“Dragsters,” said Felix, getting up from the floor and walking over to the door, “as your official acting coach, I order you to go practice for your show. I want to be impressed when I come see it in a few days. Got it?”

Both Gemma and Oscar nodded.

Felix waved his hands and said, “Wonderful. Now, shoo.” He shut the door behind them.

“You don’t have to actually come to the show,” said Alison, still painting.

“How else am I going to meet this choir teacher?”

Deeper into the night, Alison was venting her holiday frustrations while painting a religiously neutral snowman. "It's insane. Not only am I supposed to buy and wrap all the presents, I have to make the decorations. I have to plan the parties. I have to make all the food. Oh, and if you don’t have the perfect cookie tray, you get the stink eye. Some days, I just wanna say,” she trailed off, gathering her drunken courage, “fuck it.”

Without looking up, Felix raised his fist in a show of solidarity. “Rage on against the suburban machine.”

Alison made a frustrated noise. “But I like that people rely on me. I like being able to give my kids an amazing Christmas.” She sighed and took another drink of wine. She was going to stay drunk until this ridiculous project was done and then she was going to sleep for the rest of the weekend and Donnie could put up the Christmas decorations without her.

“What was Christmas like for you and Sarah growing up?” she asked. 

“A lot like every other day, I guess. It wasn’t like Mrs. S. could pretend that we weren’t poor,” said Felix. He laughed softly to himself. “She used to bake these terrible cookies. I think that was the only time every year when Mrs. S. tried to be domestic.”

Alison nodded. Holidays were rough no matter what.

Some time later, the paint fumes, wine, and lack of sleep had combined into a comforting haze in Alison’s head. She still felt stressed, but it was like the stress was off in the distance, far away at the horizon of her mind, waiting patiently for her. It was a good feeling.

They finished painting the last backdrop some time in the morning, with the sun up and grossly bright. wathe morning, with the sun already up and grossly bright. Alison had brewed some very strong coffee as a reward, even if the caffeine was probably a bad idea if she wanted to actually go to sleep soon. She was curled over the kitchen counter next to Felix, as close to her coffee as she could get without putting her face in it.

“Thanks for your help, Felix.”

“I think I actually had fun,” he said, leaning to the side to bump his shoulder into Alison’s shoulder. “Now, about this choir teacher,” Felix said, trailing off.

“Well,” said Alison, “Mr. Stanwick has expressed some interest in meeting this acting coach he’s heard so much about.” She probably should have mentioned that earlier.

Felix gasped. “Alison, you horrid grinch. Why didn’t you tell me? Where’s your phone? Pull up his Facebook profile right now.”

Alison was laughing hysterically while she pulled out her phone and handed it to Felix.

“It’s not funny. Oh my god, why have I not been corrupting this man for months?”

“Merry Christmas?”


End file.
